Hector stopped short and regarded Guy fixedly.

“Do you know what your father has been saying to me?” he asked.

“Well, I can guess,” answered Guy.  “Ho! ho!  It’s a great joke that you have all the time fancied yourself the heir of Castle Roscoe, when you have no claim to it at all.  I am the heir!” he added, drawing himself up proudly; “and you are a poor dependent, and a nobody.  It’s funny!”

“Perhaps you won’t think it so funny after this!” said Hector, coolly, exasperated beyond endurance.  As he spoke he drew off, and in an instant Guy measured his length upon the greensward.

Guy rose, his face livid with passion, in a frame of mind far from funny.  He clinched his fists and looked at Hector as if he wished to annihilate him.  “You’ll pay for this,” he screamed.  “You’ll repent it, bitterly, you poor, nameless dependent, low-born, very likely—­”

“Hold, there!” said Hector, advancing resolutely, and sternly facing the angry boy.  “Be careful what you say.  If this story of your father’s is true, which I don’t believe, you might have the decency to let me alone, even if you don’t sympathize with me.  If you dare to say or hint anything against my birth, I’ll treat you worse than I have yet.”

“You’ll suffer for this!” almost shrieked Guy.

“I am ready to suffer now, if you are able to make me,” said Hector.  “Come on, and we’ll settle it now.”

But Guy had no desire for the contest to which he was invited.  He had a wholesome fear of Hector’s strong, muscular arms, aided, as they were, by some knowledge of boxing.  Hector had never taken regular lessons, but a private tutor, whom his father had employed, a graduate of Yale, had instructed him in the rudiments of the “manly art of self-defense,” and Hector was very well able to take care of himself against any boy of his own size and strength.  In size, Guy was his equal, but in strength he was quite inferior.  This Guy knew full well, and, angry as he was, he by no means lost sight of prudence.

“I don’t choose to dirty my hands with you,” he said.  “I shall tell my father, and it would serve you right if he sent you adrift.”

In Hector’s present mood, he would not, perhaps, have cared much if this threat had been carried into execution, but he was not altogether reckless, and he felt that it was best to remain under Mr. Roscoe’s protection until he had had time to investigate the remarkable story which he suspected his reputed uncle had trumped up to serve his own interests.

“Tell your father, if you like,” said Hector, quietly.  “I don’t know whether he will sustain you or not in your insults, but if he does, then I shall have two opponents instead of one.”

“Does that mean that you will attack my father?” demanded Guy, hoping for an affirmative answer, as it would help him to prejudice his father against our hero.

“No,” answered Hector, smiling, “I don’t apprehend there will be any necessity, for he won’t insult me as you have done.”